


The Lion Sleeps Tonight

by NorthoftheNorth



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-16 18:03:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16500143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthoftheNorth/pseuds/NorthoftheNorth
Summary: A magician protects Mathew's town, a place that used to be fraught with danger from invaders before. But this protection comes at a price, and Mathew is chosen as the sacrifice to be offered up to the magician for who-knows-what. Until the Lion comes to get him and he's someone Mathew has known his whole life, and had never expected to be the Lion. One-sided Amecan. MapleTea.





	The Lion Sleeps Tonight

Mathew was in the grips of a nightmare.

And this was sensed, seen, understood, but wasn't allowed. It couldn't be allowed. Not now. Not this close to when…

When Mathew went to cry out in his sleep, still unconscious, his cries were muffled. This was no time for him to be crying, after all. He only had a few more days, and neither he nor his Papa wanted to cut that time any shorter, or would let it get cut any shorter.

Therefore, in the throes of that nightmare about his future, he wasn't allowed to scream and his tears were hastily wiped away. But he was held, comforted, and whispered to soothingly and lovingly as the night wore on.

"Hush my darling." That was his father. His Papa, Francis.

Sadly his mother wasn't there anymore. Jeanne had been burned in the witch hunt fervour quite a few years ago. Mathew could hardly remember her. But that didn't mean the townspeople had forgotten about her, and when it had come time for the Sacrifice to be made after their ten years of abundance, who else would they look to but the witches son? After all, anyone that had the seemingly magical ability to heal must be a witch too, just like his midwife mother.

For now, though, he had a few more days until the Lion woke up and came to their town to demand his Sacrifice. Just a few more days that he could still be with his Papa. His poor Papa who had always seemed so hollow and frail after his mother died, and who Mathew didn't know what would come to now that his own death was pronounced.

In a few more days, the Lion would take him away….and do who knows what with him. Probably eat him. He was called the Lion, after all.

For now, though, those kinds of thoughts didn't bother Mathew as they had for the past month since it was decided that he would be the Sacrifice. For now, he was sleeping, even if his Papa wasn't, couldn't, not with his precious son this close to being taken away from him forever, almost just like his greatest love had been. Torn from his arms by his neighbours. The people he used to think he could trust. And now no longer would. 

"Please, Mathieu, we can't cut your time short. I couldn't bear it. However long we can keep you away from that sadist is how long I want to keep you with me for. So, please," And Francis was close to sobbing himself. "S-so, please, don't cry out, or he'll take you sooner."

Mathew stirred in his sleep, and Francis was quick to hold his breath in a desperate attempt to keep the room quiet enough that his sweet little son could get some more sleep.  
'That he's gotten far too little of,' Francis thought as he looked critically at the purple under his son's eyes. The same eye bags that mirrored his own. They both had not gotten enough sleep this past month. Mathew mostly from trying to comfort his Papa, and Francis from the sense that Mathew would disappear on him the moment he closed his eyes.  
Despite his best efforts, Mathew woke up.

"Papa, why are you still awake? You need to sleep. I don't want you getting sick…"

"Oh, Mathieu…"

The dams broke. Francis was now crying openly now. Mathew stared at his father in growing awareness.

Oh…that was right.

"I'm so sorry, Mathieu. I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you. H-he'll get you and you have to go so soon…We didn't have enough time to process this. I'm so sorry, Mathieu."  
Mathew looked up solemnly. His owl-big violet eyes full of compassion and forgiveness.

Still, Mathew spoke softly, slowly, "Nonsense, Papa. That was the deal our people struck with the magician long before you or I were born. Someone had to be this decade's sacrifice. I'm glad it could be me; it means someone else won't get hurt. Besides, in order to keep this land protected by the magician's magic and safe from his wrath like in the legends, I'm glad to be able to offer up my own life for it."

Francis just looked down at his son. The poor dear had always been too compassionate, too caring for his own good. It's how his healing powers had been found out. Mathew wouldn't just keep them hidden. He had to help that boy who'd had the ox cart fall on him…the mayor's son who'd been trying for years to banish the rumours of his son being gay, and that he was gay for kind little Mathew. Francis almost wished the ox cart had killed the little fool who'd run straight to his father to talk about Mathew's gift to him and to ask for his hand in marriage, again. If it wasn't for that fool Alfred… That idiot who had let out the secret...Francis, depsite not being a very violent person, had in the past few days wished for the young man's death, if only because he had directly now cuased the almost certain death of his little Mathew. 

"I'm sorry," Francis said instead, instead of all the insults he wanted to say about that darn boy who had never just left his Mathew alone, despite Mathew's polite disinterest, despite Mathew's pleading after the accident to keep what he'd done to himself.

"You don't need to be, Papa. It's not your fault. The townspeople made their decision, and the Lion accepted it. You've done everything you could, but," Mathew hugged his father in a hug and could feel the sobs that wracked his father's now far too thin frame. "I'm fine with it. Now that it's been decided on, no one can change the decision. You know that. So, please, stop blaming yourself for this. You know I don't blame you."

And he didn't, Francis knew that. Mathew never blamed anyone for anything. He should be the one crying and screaming, cursing the universe, but no, Mathew just gave his kind smile and continued on as if nothing was wrong. As if he wasn't going to die in less than a week's time.

But, Francis blamed himself. If only he had moved as soon as the people started whispering how uncanny it was that no babes or young mothers died under his dear Jeanne's touch. He shouldn't have stayed in this cursed town once that sham of a trial had come about, after he'd seen the state Jeanne had been in after her torturing…or after they'd burnt her at the stake.

Mathew licked his lips, how could he calm his father now? He needed him to be happy. Taking care of him was the only thing keeping himself together now. He still had so much to learn about healing. He still had so much he wanted to do. But, he couldn't fight back, and everyone knew that the Sacrifice was never seen or heard from again. He'd accepted that he was going to die. But his father…

"Papa…let's just be happy that I'm still here for the next three days. I-" Mathew gave a quiet cough to clear his throat. "I don't want my last memories of you to be of you crying, especially because of me. I can't bear to have those be my last memories I ever have."

That seemed to soften the great heaves Francis had been trying to hold back.  
Mathew hugged his father closer and let a bit of his magic out and seep through his hands, spreading out and filling his Papa's thin frame, returning it to the strong and vibrant figure he remembered.

"Alright, Mathieu. I'll try."  
________________________________________  
When the magician appeared in their living room covered with a great black cloak that hid his face and figure an hour before the great clock in the centre of the village said Mathew had to go, Mathew almost lost his calm composure. He had to fight back the urge to demand his last hour of living, but he couldn't. His Papa had just gone to his room to fetch his sketchpad, to draw him before he left. It would have been the first time his Papa had picked up his drawing materials since his mother's death. Plus, if he went now, before Papa came back, his Papa wouldn't have to see him go. Would that be better for him? Considering how he'd been since Mathew was named as the Sacrifice, and from what Mathew remembered of his mother's death, maybe it would be.

Besides, no one went against the Lion, and if the Lion wanted him now rather than in an hour's time…That was that.

This just meant that Mathew Williams had one hour less to live before he was killed. That was all.

He would die an hour short of his nineteenth birthday, and he had already accepted that. So, Mathew stepped forward and placed his hand over top of the one offered to him.  
He had a brief moment of vertigo, and suddenly, he wasn't in the living room he'd grown up in anymore.

He was inside of the castle everyone rumoured was inside of the great jungle of a rose garden that was all anyone had ever seen of the Lions' abode. And a blond-haired man with some of the bushiest eyebrows and the most vibrant green eyes Mathew had ever seen was looking at him studiously, or was it nervously?

"I really hope you don't freak out, Mathew."

Mathew inhaled sharply as he recognized the man. 

"Arthur?"


End file.
